To link to the entire object, paste this link in email, IM or documentTo embed the entire object, paste this HTML in websiteTo link to this page, paste this link in email, IM or documentTo embed this page, paste this HTML in website

At Bryce Junction, about eight rats climbed into the truck and headed toward Salt Lake. The rest of us continued in the bus to Bryce Canyon, planning to arrive in Salt Lake the following day.
The trip to Salt Lake in the truck was a relatively quiet one because most of it was during the black of night. Everyone slept soundly in their bed rolls which they stretched out over the cans of food. Odey slept especially soundly - she didn't even wake as she slipped right between two food cans and disappeared from sight among the bags, boats, and bundles. When the truck stopped for a rest, on the streets of sleepy little Utah towns could be seen shaggy, dusty characters of questionable repute. Without incident, however, the truck and its few passengers managed to arrive in Merly's back yard to unload its rats and boats.
At Bryce a large bus filled with sleeping people pulled into the park. It stopped at the Lodge and a stream of groggy folk poured into the lighted hall. A few still slept in their seats, unaware that inside Bob was playing the piano and the rest were dancing about and enjoying all the recreational activities of the Lodge. After a half hour or so, the stream poured in the opposite direction, and the bus carried its contents to the campground. There, from bed rolls pulled tightly around us because of the cool air, we observed the stars from between the spires of pines at whose feet we lay. Pink flannel pajamas had been donned, and we slept in comfort until the next morning, eager to see the canyon, we bustled in the crisp morning. The neighbors
who had been asleep when we arrived were amazed to see us all milling about and wondered what hit them. One of our own group wondered the same thing after the Shaving Incident.
Thursday, June 19
Bob Enz innocently returned from washing up; but as he entered Rat Territory, the girls all tackled him and pinned him to the ground. With his own shaving cream he was lathered, though not without a struggle which resulted in the lathering of a number of girls as well. Gradually he ceased his resistance and Marilyn Dean began to shave his whiskers away. His moans and groans died away, and he relaxed and found it quite enjoyable. The rest of us managed to eat up all the food; and when we next saw Bob, he had been transformed into a dashing man with a still shaggy mustache. The deed was done.
Breakfast had been a combination of everything that was left: hot dogs, beans, cold cereal, sundry hot drinks, etc. Having finished indiscriminately everything edible in the area, we got our gear together, quickly collected an interesting souvenir, and loaded into the bus. We had one hour to tour the canyon from the point at which the bus left us, so we tore down the switchbacks and swarmed across the

Socotwa is a trip log of participant activities and photographs from a river rafting voyage through the Glen Canyon area of the Colorado River from June 11-19, 1958.
The name, Socotwa, comes from the South Cottonwood Ward of the LDS Church, which first started the trips.

At Bryce Junction, about eight rats climbed into the truck and headed toward Salt Lake. The rest of us continued in the bus to Bryce Canyon, planning to arrive in Salt Lake the following day.
The trip to Salt Lake in the truck was a relatively quiet one because most of it was during the black of night. Everyone slept soundly in their bed rolls which they stretched out over the cans of food. Odey slept especially soundly - she didn't even wake as she slipped right between two food cans and disappeared from sight among the bags, boats, and bundles. When the truck stopped for a rest, on the streets of sleepy little Utah towns could be seen shaggy, dusty characters of questionable repute. Without incident, however, the truck and its few passengers managed to arrive in Merly's back yard to unload its rats and boats.
At Bryce a large bus filled with sleeping people pulled into the park. It stopped at the Lodge and a stream of groggy folk poured into the lighted hall. A few still slept in their seats, unaware that inside Bob was playing the piano and the rest were dancing about and enjoying all the recreational activities of the Lodge. After a half hour or so, the stream poured in the opposite direction, and the bus carried its contents to the campground. There, from bed rolls pulled tightly around us because of the cool air, we observed the stars from between the spires of pines at whose feet we lay. Pink flannel pajamas had been donned, and we slept in comfort until the next morning, eager to see the canyon, we bustled in the crisp morning. The neighbors
who had been asleep when we arrived were amazed to see us all milling about and wondered what hit them. One of our own group wondered the same thing after the Shaving Incident.
Thursday, June 19
Bob Enz innocently returned from washing up; but as he entered Rat Territory, the girls all tackled him and pinned him to the ground. With his own shaving cream he was lathered, though not without a struggle which resulted in the lathering of a number of girls as well. Gradually he ceased his resistance and Marilyn Dean began to shave his whiskers away. His moans and groans died away, and he relaxed and found it quite enjoyable. The rest of us managed to eat up all the food; and when we next saw Bob, he had been transformed into a dashing man with a still shaggy mustache. The deed was done.
Breakfast had been a combination of everything that was left: hot dogs, beans, cold cereal, sundry hot drinks, etc. Having finished indiscriminately everything edible in the area, we got our gear together, quickly collected an interesting souvenir, and loaded into the bus. We had one hour to tour the canyon from the point at which the bus left us, so we tore down the switchbacks and swarmed across the